Depressed Soldier Novels & Stories

They ate and talked, and Sarah tried her best to maintain a happy expression, but her mind kept replaying her father’s words in the grocery store. Tim’s unit deployed to Afghanistan. *** Once they’d completed another patrol safely, Tim settled into his bunk, his thoughts full of home, and Sarah. I’m not going to stop trying to get her back, he told himself, his jaw clenched with determination. No matter what. One bunk over, Dack watched Tim, and recalled their conversation from the prior day. Tim had finally confided in Dack about everything that had transpired on what should have been the happiest day of his life.

He gritted his teeth, trying to contain his anger. "Then ... did we win, Deputy War General?" the class two soldier asked with a hopeful look in his eyes. James nodded, "Yes, we won." "R-really, Vice General of War? We won? I'm not dreaming, am I?" the soldier asked with tears on the verge of falling. James looked at the soldier with a sad gaze. The torture he received must have frustrated the soldier for his emotions to become so unstable. "You're not dreaming. We've won," James said.

Sheldon slapped his forehead, and he was extremely depressed as he said, “F*ck... I’m not going! I don’t even know how to fight! So, why do you want me to go up the mountain?! Bullets do not have eyes! How is your commander going to explain things to Charlie if any one of the bullets were to hit and kill me?” The soldier blurted out, “Who is asking you to go to war? Of course the reason why I’m taking you up the mountain is so that you can hide in the reverse slope fortification! The commander has already given the command for everyone to enter the reverse slope fortification within thirty minutes. If you want to stay here and get bombed, you can just stay here, then!” As he spoke, the soldi

Even with three fingers missing and a shattered kneecap, he just stared at the floor, his breathing shallow and ragged. "He’s not talking, Boss," Timothy said, sounding frustrated. "He’s gone into shock. I don't think we’re getting anything out of him." I turned back to the soldier. He was a wreck, a heap of broken flesh and ruined pride. He looked up at me, his vision clearly filled with unbridled hatred. "Go... to... hell," he wheezed, the words barely audible. I knelt in front of him, my shadow looming over his broken form.

DEFECTORS STATE BEYOND ITS BORDERS "Lads, he's awake!" One of the soldiers yelled this to the rest of the troops. They ran to the tent after dumping bowls of whatever they were serving for lunch. They surrounded it, waiting for him to emerge into the outdoors, it took him a while but he finally got up from his bed. “Hey, Hey!” Allow him some breathing space! He's returned from the dead, and the last thing he needs to see is faces looking at him, as though you've seen a ghost,”

It’s been an hour since I came in but they didn’t say it was okay to leave yet. Meanwhile, Damon called me from the outside and updated what was going on. The police released a report to the media after talking to the culprit in their custody. The guy with the gun was a former soldier in the military that explained how he was able to take down two bodyguards on his own, and he was dismissed from his duty two years ago when he was diagnosed with a mental illness called schizophrenia.

Once crossed his mind, if death could be the key to happiness? Imagining that his breath got even more short. The man tightly grasped the medicine bottle he had been squeezing. That man had to face the fact, that he was indeed a weak human who couldn't get away from this medicine. The man is only a human who lives under the pressure of the inner family. So that it made him psychologically disturbed, the man had depression. And he hated himself for being so useless. "Why should I God !!" He said softly, while his hand was beating hard on his chest, he hoped that the tightness in his chest would disappear.

He was a creature of nightmares. He cursed quietly. There was no way a beautiful, intelligent woman like Chloe would ever chose to be with someone like him. Yes, he had military rank, but the drive to climb higher had been killed with Wolf Squad. He was broken and battered. Some people in previous wars had called it Shell Shock, or the Thousand Yard Stare, but now they called it something else. PTSD. Hell, he still had to report to a physical therapist and a psychologist once a week. The physical therapist was amazed at his near miraculous recovery and he lied through his teeth to the shrink. No, she deserved someone better than him.

"Boo, come sit here with me. I need to talk to you about something." "Sure, soldier, what is wrong?" "We are deploying on our first mission in an hour." "Sorry, what?" "There is another militant camp, and we need to find it. Harrison is sending us out for surveillance." "Fuck, soldier. I-I did not think it would happen so soon." "Everything is going to be all right, please, I don't want you to worry." "Of course, I am going to worry. Those men are animals; I hate to think…"

But his efforts prove futile, and he shakes his head weakly. "I... I'm sorry, Sir," he stammers, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "I couldn't... I couldn't recognize anyone. It all happened so fast, and their faces were... distorted by the chaos." A surge of frustration and disappointment washes over me, but I quell the storm within, knowing that dwelling on it won't bring Scarlett back. I offer the soldier a nod of understanding, appreciating his honesty despite his condition. "Rest now," I say softly, my voice tinged with empathy. "Save your strength. You've done your best."